The A-Z of Rosie's boyfriends
by The-X-Men-Lover
Summary: The 26 times Rosie Watson brought home a boyfriend, and how Sherlock and John reacted to them. (Post Season 4) I promise I'll update soon!
1. A

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe **

* * *

**A: **

"I'm home!" Rosie called, walking up toward her flat. She pulled her yellow raincoat off, hanging it next to a certain detective's trench coat.

"Rosie! So glad you're here! John went to the store and I need someone to help me pull the toenails off of Ms. Smith." Sherlock smiled, poking his head out from behind a door frame, his dark hair framing his angular face and manic eyes. She sighed.

"Sorry, I'm expecting someone."

"Good! They can pull her fingernails!" Sherlock bustled around the flat, gathering various papers from around the living room.

"Sherlock. It's my boyfriend." He stopped.

"I wasn't aware you had one." He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah, you wouldn't be. I was careful not to mention him."

"Oh no, I noticed…. That stuff." He gestured in her general direction.

"What?"

"Your makeup, heavier than usual, also, low cut shirts, hair slightly curled. Don't think I didn't notice the smudged lipstick, young lady, staying approximately 27 minutes longer at school than you usually do, jumping to your phone when it so much as buzzes, taking an alternate route home and dog hair, a large dog by the looks of it, on your clothing even though we are not currently in possession of a canine." He ticked them off on his fingers. "I just thought girls were more your area of expertise."

"No." She said bluntly.

"Okay. He can still pull her fingernails." He walked over and dragged over the client chair towards his and John's armchairs.

"No."

"Yep."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Yep."

"Sherlock! You'll scare him off!" She threw her hands in the air.

"Good." He smiled.

"Scare who off?" John stepped in through the door, arms full of groceries.

"My boyfriend! He's putting out the client chair!" She complained. John blinked and set the groceries down.

"I thought you liked girls." She threw her hands up, running them through her short blonde hair that reminded John so much of his late wife's.

"No! I don't!" She cried. John made a noncommittal hum and walked over to the food fridge.

"Sherlock!" He sighed. "There's a head in the food fridge."

"The body fridge was full, can you help me pull off Ms. Smith's nails?" Sherlock bustled around the living room, grabbing various knick-knacks and setting them elsewhere. He picked up his violin at one point, before putting it down and grabbing a day old cup of tea off the coffee table, knocking it all back in one large gulp. John ignored him and turned to his daughter.

"When is this so-called boyfriend coming over?" John asked.

"10 minutes."

John's eyes widened. "Sherlock! Find the gun!"

"Dad! What about the client chair?" Rosie whined.

"That stays." John caught the gun hurtling toward his face.

"But-"

"No buts! Sherlock, get yours over here, we have a boyfriend to intimidate!" Sherlock complied, his navy blue housecoat fluttering around him.

"Ms. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled. "We have a boyfriend situation!"

"Oh Rosie." Ms. Hudson climbed up the stairs, cupping Rosie's cheek lovingly. "Don't let them scare you, they won't hurt him."

"No promises!" Sherlock yelled. "Biscuits!"

"I'm not your housekeeper!" She bustled off toward the kitchen. Rosie watched her with a certain fondness reserved for the woman who practically raised her. When John and Sherlock were off chasing a criminal through the streets of London, Ms. Hudson would put Roise to bed. Or when Sherlock was hanging around Greg, trying to get a case out of him, Ms. Hudson would make Rosie dinner. She was the closest thing Rosie had to a mother. Suddenly, Rosie's phone vibrated with a text.

_rosie theres a line. _

_they're clients, skip the line, come up the stairs. _She responded quickly, her fingernails tapping the cracked screen in a rapid staccato.

"He's on his way, John!" Sherlock called from over Rosie's shoulder. She screeched and dropped her phone, the screen slamming into the hard floor.

"Rosie?" A deep voice called from downstairs. Rosie swallowed, picked up her phone and called out.

"Up here, Adrian!" Slowly someone began to ascend the staircase. Sherlock ducked into the room next to Rosie, grabbing Ms. Smith.

"Rose, what'sOHMYGOD!" Adrian shrieked.

"Hello!" Sherlock called, waving the corpse's arm as he dragged it across the floor toward the living room, dropping her unceremoniously on the couch.

"That was incredibly disrespectful." John murmured to him.

"She's dead, what does it matter?" Sherlock shrugged, sitting down in his chair.

Adrian stepped into the light and Sherlock narrowed his eyes. _Blond hair, Pale skin, Eastern European, judging by the accent, Russian? No, Swiss. designer shirt, new sneakers, 5-600 dollars. Wastes his money on clothes and expensive cologne, one brother, one dog-a German Shepard, both parents in the picture, upper-middle class family, takes the bus to school and bought a new pair of shoes today. _He sat back, satisfied with his deductions.

"Please, take a seat." Sherlock gestured to the client chair with his revolver. Adrian swallowed and gingerly took a seat on the edge of the chair. Rosie flushed red with embarrassment, biting her nails.

"So, um, what do you-" He fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt.

"Do you know who we are?" John asked. Adrian nodded.

"Good. Then you know what we're capable of." Sherlock fixed his intense stare on the teenager sitting in the chair in front of him.

"Please list the attributes which you think Rosie would find appealing about you." He spun the gun around his finger nonchalantly.

"Uh-"

"If you say your shoes I will shoot you in the head." Sherlock interrupted.

"Personality..?"

"You're not displaying a lot of that right now, so lets try for something else, hm?" John scribbled something down on his notepad.

"Uh…." He looked at Rosie for help. She mouthed "_Humor" _

"Shoes?" He offered. Sherlock bolted up and shot the yellow smiley face on the wall behind Adrian, all whilst maintaining eye contact with the youth.

"I don't think you understand who you're dealing with. Your girlfriend's dad served in the military, his dead wife was a mercenary, his landlady ran a drug cartel-"

"I was just typing!" Ms. Hudson reminded from the kitchen.

"And I'm a high-functioning sociopath whose brother practically runs the British government and sister is the smartest person on the planet! Now please, tell me more about your shoes." Sherlock spat. Adrian shoved the chair backwards, his prized shoes squeaking on the floor as he fled the flat.

"Adrian, wait!" Rosie ran after him. Sherlock sat back down, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

"Too much?" he asked, cocking his head at John.

"Nah." John smiled. They could hear muffled sobs coming from downstairs and both men quickly rose to investigate.

"Adrian please!"

"No way Rose, your two dads are creepy as all get out, and besides, you're not nearly pretty enough to feature on my Snapchat story." Adrian stepped outside, slamming the door behind him. Rosie dissolved into muffled tears, sliding down the door. John balled his hands into fists. He muttered something about not being gay and turned toward Sherlock.

"Shall we?" John asked. Sherlock smiled. It was a dark, bitter smile.

"The game is on."


	2. B

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe.**

* * *

**B:**

"Hey Dad!" Rosie bounded up the stairs two at a time. John waved from the kitchen and went back to unpacking groceries.

"So, bring him in." He said.

"What?" Rosie sputtered.

"The boyfriend, Rosie, the boyfriend!" Sherlock called, matter-of-factly.

"Of course you'd know. Of course." Rosie sighed. "I don't know why I even bother any more." Rosie reluctantly walked down the stairs. "Please don't scare him this time!" She called behind her.

"We were helping you!" Sherlock called after her.

"I don't need help!" She yelled back.

Soon enough, her new boyfriend crossed the threshold of the living room and immediately noticed the two men sitting in their respective chairs, John's arms still full of groceries. He couldn't stifle the smile breaking out across his face.

"You're Sherlock Holmes! And uh..." John sighed.

"John Watson."

"Yeah." Rosie's boyfriend laughed.

"Name?" Sherlock stood abruptly. "And how many girlfriends have you had before?"

"Bruno. And, um, Rosie is my first." Bruno shifted uncomfortably. Sherlock hummed and began to circle around Bruno, like a shark about to attack. The ebony-haired teen fidgeted nervously, glancing at Rosie. She held her hand up in a calming gesture.

"Sherlock." John murmured, his voice a low warning as the detective started patting down Bruno.

Sherlock ignored him and reached into the teen's jacket pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. He held it up to his nose and sat back down, running his fingers over the edge of the paper.

Bruno laughed nervously and shifted from foot to foot. "What're you doing with-"

"Why did you lie?" Sherlock asked.

"What?" Bruno ran a hand through his dark curls. "I-I didn't-"

"About Rosie. She's not your first girlfriend. In fact, she's not your only girlfriend." Sherlock said cooly.

"That's not true!" Bruno shouted. "I'm not a cheater!"

"No? Then why do you have another girl's number, signed" Sherlock cleared his throat. "'XOXO Lily'" He read, mocking. Rosie turned on Bruno, a cool anger in her eyes.

"How dare you!" She slapped him across the face, a move she had learned from Aunt Molly.

"Baby I swear-"

"I'm not your baby, and I never will be!" Rosie grabbed at a necklace around her neck and ripped it off, tossing it at the boy's feet.

John dove for it with an animalistic ferocity, groceries abandoned on the floor next to him.

"To Rosie. All my love forever, Bruno." He read. "Well, that was a load of s***." He tossed it at Bruno. The teen turned back to Rosie.

"Bab-Rosie, I made a really bad decision, please, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again!"

"Liar." Sherlock pulled two more pieces of paper out of his pocket. "I've been documenting your interactions for two months now, and I've seen you kiss a total of eight girls, who, last I checked, were not Rosamund." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I'm giving you a ten second head start. Use it well. And, please, don't forget, Rosamund was on the Track and Field team."

Bruno dashed off, and Rosie followed, exactly eight seconds after the door slammed downstairs and two after Bruno left the living room.

"He's quick I'll give him that." John admitted. A muffled scream came from outside.

"But not quick enough, apparently." Sherlock muttered before standing up and grabbing his violin. "Hope he covers his face, otherwise, he may end up with more than a few missing teeth."

John peered out the window. "Well, Rosie was right. She doesn't need our help. At least not to beat up Bruno."


	3. C

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe.**

* * *

**C:**

"John!" Sherlock burst through the door of his flat, dragging something behind him. "John, someone was skulking around outside!" Sherlock stepped into the living room, an unhinged, victorious smile on his face. His normally immaculate suit was crumpled and torn. In his right hand he gripped a jacket, with the owner still inside, alive for once. Alive and shaking.

"Sherlock!" Rosie dropped a pickle jar in the kitchen, the glass shattering on the hard ceramic floor. "That's Corey!" She ran over and hugged the scrawny boy.

"Corey?" Sherlock scrunched his eyebrows together.

"My boyfriend." Rosie wrenched the jacket from Sherlock's fist. The boy whimpered and collapsed onto the ground, his already pale skin taken on a deathly pallor.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I was supposed to be on vocal rest." He whimpered.

"Yes, but then you screamed, so say goodbye to a lead role." Sherlock scoffed. Rosie made an indignant sound.

"Who's screaming?" John stepped into the living room, followed by Mrs Hudson.

"Rosie's boyfriend." Sherlock brushed a leaf stuck to his jacket onto the ground.

"Boyfriend, eh?" John circled the dark-haired boy, picking a leaf out of his hair. "Does he live in a tree?"

"Dad! Stop!" Rosie whined. He looked her dead in the eyes.

"Never." He said solemnly.

Corey extended a hand to John.

"Hi, Mr. Watson, my name's Corey." His voice quivered, then broke.

"At least this one has manners." Sherlock spat.

"Sod off, Sherlock! Like you'd know about manners." John called. Sherlock skulked off towards his violin, casting dirty looks at John.

"Anyways, Corey, it is Corey isn't it?" Corey nodded. "Tell me why I should let you date my daughter." Corey tapped his foot on the ground, murmuring what John imagined was a practiced speech. Satisfied, Corey raised his head and looked John in the eyes.

"Well, Mr. Watson, I'd really appreciate it if you let me date your daughter, or at least interact with her without being dragged from the streets." Corey cast a quick glance at Sherlock. "I really like your daughter. She is incredible, amazing, funny and the coolest person I've ever met. She gets me in a way no one ever has. She's the only one who will obsess with me over _Hamilton_ or _Beetlejuice_ for an hour, and then listen to the soundtrack. So in short, Rosie makes me happier than I've been in a long time, and I feel like I can't exist without her." Corey dipped down a bit, as if he was about to bow, before straightening up and blushing in realization of his surroundings. He turned to Rosie

"Sorry. That got a bit out of hand."

"Was that all on the spot?" Rosie asked, incredulous. Corey nodded, then whispered to her, "I won a gold medal in an improv competition last year."

"Well, Dad?" Rosie asked. John sighed, then nodded, sinking down into his chair. Rosie smiled and grabbed Corey, jumping up and down.

"We did it! You're the first not to get scared away!" Corey's face broke into a grin and he reciprocated Rosie's hug.

"God, I was terrified. That was like opening night all over again." He laughed, but stopped suddenly, his breath hitching."Is that the time?"

"Yeah, I think so, why?" Rosie furrowed her eyebrows.

"Jesus Christ! I have rehearsal!" He ran a panicked hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry. I totally ruined the moment, please don't hurt me." He glanced at Sherlock, who smirked.

Corey gave Rosie a quick kiss on the cheek, at which John rose from his chair.

"I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you!" He turned and dashed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

The door slammed downstairs, and the flat was silent, save for the sound of Sherlock plucking at his violin's strings.

"Well, now that we've sorted that out, is anyone going to clean up this mess?" Mrs. Hudson gestured to the shattered pickle jar on the kitchen floor.


End file.
